In the middle of the night, I wake up from a bad dream and cry. I am holding him tightly as I cry. I can still feel his little body, embracing me. I wake up…it is past 3 am. I am thirsty. I suddenly remember that I am in Madrid, in Senora Fidalgo’s house, that I am alone and frightened. Nothing is familiar…I am not in my own skin yet. But the bed is warm and comforting. I remind myself of the happy streets, the people, the coffee, the fresh air outside, and close my eyes. I lie awake for hours, unable to return to my broken sleep.
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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on January 6, 2008 4:42 PM.
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